


Here's to Nothing (But Forever)

by DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cussing, F/M, Facebook: The Fairest of the Rare, Fairest of the Rare's Secret Santa Drabble Exchange 2020, Light Angst, Magical Bond, Soul Bond, light humor, marriage law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:33:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28240212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns/pseuds/DarkAngelOfSorrowReturns
Summary: There was nothing celebratory for Marcus to salute to with his limited whiskey, but he was going to drink anyway. Rated for some language!
Relationships: Marcus Flint & Hermione Granger, Marcus Flint/Hermione Granger
Comments: 1
Kudos: 25
Collections: FoTR's 2020 Secret Santa Drabble Exchange





	Here's to Nothing (But Forever)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuxLouise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxLouise/gifts).



> I hope I did the prompt requests justice! Adding a touch of soulmates in a different way so it'd fit the marriage law trope <3

A sharp bang sounded around the bar when Marcus slapped his shot glass on the counter. He tapped on the rim of the glass, signalling for another round. The woman behind the counter eyed him warily, but she poured him a shot nonetheless. 

Marcus watched the liquid closely, observing the way it would swish and swirl until reaching a certain point in the glass. After the glass was filled, the bartender walked away to serve another customer close by. He picked up the glass and narrowed his eyes at the contents as if it had wronged him. 

Perhaps, in a way, it had. 

While the bartender proved her mixology skills were proficient, it wasn’t her skill that measured the amount of alcohol poured into his glass. No matter where he went, the contents of his glass would stop at a certain level in his glass. It was annoying, to say the least. Whatever force above that was trying to control his alcohol intake could shove it. If he wanted to chug a glass of whiskey to the brim, he was within his damn right to do so. 

He brought the dark brown liquid to his lips, inwardly snorting. He knew the  _ exact  _ culprit behind these shenanigans.

The fucking Ministry of Magic. 

Who gave them the right to play with people’s lives, eh? Who gave them the bloody right to invoke a soul-binging marriage law? Who fucking allowed their magical mechanics to throw his life away and ‘match’ him Hermione bloody Granger? The sharpest witch of his year that surely hated his guts. 

It was the alcohol that filled him with a sense of hope that the witch could figure a way out of this. He was supposed to be meeting her soon as the damn decree stated. 

His hope would only last for so long because the magic the Ministry used for the binding law entailed the wizards would be limited in some manner until they made a declaration and somehow bound themselves to their witch until the witnessed, ‘official’ marriage. 

So Marcus continued to drink shot after shot until the whiskey’s stopping point in his glass pissed him off so much he couldn’t drink anymore. 

It only took one more refill.

* * *

The meeting location was meant to be neutral for both parties to feel comfortable. As he strode through the recently opened wizards hotel and up to the right room number, Marcus didn’t feel comfortable at all. 

Upon arriving at the agreed room number, the dark-haired wizard was greeted with a less hostile or determined Granger than he anticipated. She was sitting on the edge of the hotel bed and running her hand over its dark satin sheets.

He felt aggravated...helpless...turned on. Marcus didn’t want to feel any of these things, especially since none of it was comforted by his initial alcohol consumption. 

He was aggravated by this whole mess the Ministry has made to keep the bloody community alive. He was helpless in trying to fight the soul-binding magic that was cast and flowing through his body. He was turned on by the witch staring him directly in the eye with her legs crossed over her thighs. 

His trousers felt tighter all of a sudden. Though, he wasn’t a bloke to expose himself so quickly like that, regardless of the situation. 

Marcus was mentally saying ‘down boy’ as he cleared his throat to address the witch across the room. 

“Are you solid over there, Granger?” 

The witch nodded with a small, upward twitch of her lip, standing and sauntering towards him. The cream blazer worn over her shoulders was dropped to the floor, showing the tan thin-strapped chiffon shifting with the sway of her hips. 

Marcus could have given up any pursuit of resisting just like that, but the stubbornness he possessed as a Flint warned him that the witches would suffer magical effects as well. 

He was proven correct when Granger finally said something to him. Her voice sounded strained as if she wanted to fight what was happening to her. 

Atta girl, Granger.

“Allurement charm,” she said. “Enhances an...attraction to...our...bonded.” The brunette licked her lips, and Marcus swallowed hard. “No...counter charms...have succeeded.” 

Damnit, Granger. 

Any conversations would have to wait until later when it was too late to turn back. The Ministry was smart in enticing the pairs; he’d call it illegal if he didn’t consent to the potential terms  _ before  _ seeing his matched witch. Cunning buggers they were. 

She gripped his dress shirt with both hands and mouthed an apology before initiating the snog of his life. 

If anyone asked, it was the whiskey he downed earlier that made him rest his hands on her hips and pull her closer to his excited person. He’d make that worthless drinking session good for something. 


End file.
